Pervert. Heretic. Avant-Gardian. Forbidden Light makes it his mission to mix all things with sex and fetish. With the belief that "sex is a microcosm of the universe"; he tests his theories by making strange sexual juxtapositions. In his blog, Journals of an Intelsexual, he severely over-analyzes the basic and attempts to summarize the grandiose. Kink. Spirit. Headaches. Is there any more to life?

My blood boils as I continue to read, "I'd never let those black, field mitts anywhere near this good meat...but if there's one thing nigger lips are good for..."

I couldn't believe where my curiosity lead me this time...

Bitch. Slut. Pussy. It isn't uncommon for people to convert terms of degradation into dirty talk. Re-conceptualizing derogatory terms, we thrust ourselves into a state of hyper-sexuality. Meat. Stud. Beast. Giving in to these depictions of savage sexual beings, we give ourselves license to become mindlessly passionate. Thug. Nigga. Nigger? Too far? Believe it or not, there are black men and women who find being called a nigger, coon and other racial epithets erotic. More unbelievable than that, "race play" goes much deeper.

Humiliation. Shackles. Whippings. These elements are nothing new to the BDSM world, but it becomes especially jarring when given a racist twist. (At least, it does for me.) To indulge in their non-PC kink, men from all over come to Palm Springs, CA to participate in the "Plantation Retreat". Old fashioned slavery is recreated for white and black men alike to engage in homoerotic versions of slave auctions, forced labor and ownership. Black men return to being only 1/16th of their white counterparts and they love it. They're sexually excited by being owned as human property. They are turned on by the humbling experience of being inferior in every way... but one.

Ultimately, the slaves are bound under their own volition, under their own terms. Their experience goes only as deep as they have negotiated to go. A part of me is amazed. Have oppression become so far removed from our reality, that it can become fodder for fantasy? Is slavery such a distant memory, we can play with the scar tissue without opening old wounds? What's the difference between being aroused by hearing "Nigger" whispered in your ear and dancing to our favorite songs where "nigga" blares through the speaker?

I have too many questions...

Personally, this fetish hits too close to home. I can't imagine recreating a present reality and calling it "play". Let's face it, I doubt the white "masters" leave their superiority complexes at the retreat. When your fantasy is to purchase and trade me, is it possible to view me as an equal? Coming from these thick, full lips, can my words be heard objectively? Can you really call me a nigger and not mean it?

I remember reading an interview with a Jewish American S/M dyke who said, 'I reserve the right to play with the swastika to remove its power to hurt me.' So for her such 'play' was a way of moving beyond a fear that she felt damaged her psychologically - & her S/M activities (private & consensual) were therefore as far removed as can be conceptually from the reality of American neo-Nazism. Yet of course disquieting to hear about - and with no guarantee that her white skinhead S/M partners were not in fact truly anti-semitic behind the facade & not simply 'performing' anti-semitism in a 'safe' environment. Though I guess she would argue that if the environment was safe, then the reality or otherwise of the other performers' anti-semitism would be irrelevant to her personal project of self-liberation.

I do think that if this was the reverse - with white men being the slaves - we'd all just roll our eyes at such a 'cliche' reversal being played out (as in all those Blackballed films, albeit to a less fetishised extent). One could argue it would take a pretty extreme sort of confidence as a black gay man to admit to being intrigued by such scenarios - as evidently some are. I would imagine most black participants would turn out to be professional classes & quite successful in public life - as most people into S/M generally seem to be.

How seriously should one take it? Human beings' tensions play out in so many disconcerting ways. This one is particularly unnerving because it's so near so many knuckles - which no doubt explains why it has such a charge for those people into it. I mean, I can't really think of anything actually consensual that's more taboo. I guess the mistake is to project onto an extreme minority peccadillo the belief that it's a revelation about what people (even including the participants) are 'really' like outside of the fantasy arena - any more than one would about, say, adult babies or people into coprophagia or piss-guzzling or mummification & other such highways & byways.

Perhaps, though, it's especially disturbing to gay folks because we're used to asserting our sexual identity as an essence on which political and moral claims to justice and equality can be based, & S/M of any sort explicitly pollutes that.

However I don't think we should argue that people shouldn't indulge in their kinks because it lets the cause down. That argument has always been used, and still is used, to villify drag, cross-dressing and effeminacy in gay men by their more straight-acting/everyday brothers, and to disavow the S/M community because it's embarassing when you're trying to present a 'we're just as normal as you' facade to Joe Mainstream.

It'd be interesting, of course, to witness the minutiae of such an event. The photos make it look grimly Mondo Cane-like, whereas the reality might be rather more camp & cheerful & apologetic & 'ooh, sorry, are those chains chafing?' than it looks.

It's very American, I think, to set up a 'Plantation Retreat' club, no doubt with its members updates, newsletters, special offers & (as we see) commemorative souvenir snaps. I don't suppose it gets mentioned on too many Facebook updates...

In the 80's I was a big ol' coke-head. I was also into all sorts of kinky semi-public drug-fueled sex. I remember picking up a hot guy who claimed he was completely straight, and after a few hits of coke was begging to fuck me in my car on the pier in NYC.

We did. He called me faggot while he did it. I guess it was the drugs and the whole degrading aspect of giving myself to someone who repeated grunted faggot in my ear -- however it was awesome.

I still get a rush thinking about it.

I gave up the drugs a long time ago, but there is something to said for submitting to the degrading in pursuit of the ultimate nut.

I've often fantacized about having slaves to sexually abuse, or being a Roman Emperor with a harem of beautiful men. If I could live out either fantasy I'd do it in a heartbeat.

These guys get a major rush out of this. And I say - more power to them.

I am totally aroused by verbal abuse and receive it as much as I give. I have been called faggot and jewboy and I find it erotic. Trust me, I _CAN_ call you a nigger and not mean it. My fuckbuddies- a couple of which I've been messing with for years- they know that I totally respect them. I imagine that if they didn't, they wouldn't let me!

Unfortunately some white man thought their meat wasn't too good to get on top of an ancestral mother of mine. Those brown to light babies came from men committing miscegenation. I'm sure the white women didn't exactly relish the hijinks of the white men they shared their bed with. Where's Lorena Bobbit when you need her?

"I would also like to take this opportunity to squash the persistent rumours about mysterious 'disappearances' and emphasize that rural and urban areas are now enjoying a life of harmony and peace. I'm sure you're glad to hear this. And I'm happy you're glad."